FNAF One Shot- Nf991 Collection
by Nightfury991
Summary: This series will contain all of my previous and future FNAF one shots. There will be no particular order in which they are posted, but suggestions are welcome. I will also be accepting suggestions for one-shots through reviews and PMs, so make sure if you want me to have a go at writing them, send them over to me :)
1. 1 - Forgive Me

He knew he was dying.

Well, _again_.

Even though you can only die once.

But it felt like he was dying all over again.

It didn't matter, though.

He just needed to see _him._

Just one last time.

He barely escaped the fire; the flames licked the remanence of the suit, the odd wire smoldering, but he made it.

He wasn't going to get finished off by that _damn_ Puppet. No…He wasn't going down like that.

He got away as the building burned to the ground, before the police arrived on the scene. They would scavenge the smoldering rubble, but all they would find was a burnt metal arm with a hook at the end, ruined and smoked masks, and a blackened, melted security badge.

Cheap-ass plastic…

The rain had juddered the spring locks, but he carried on; limping away, climbing over a wall. He had crumpled to the ground on the other side.

If he had bones left, that would've resulted in a broken rib or two.

He hobbled away, and the rain only got heavier; soaking into the remains of the suit, weighing him down ever so slightly.

Before the sun had even broke over the horizon, he felt that feeling again.

Death's cold embrace, wrapping around what remained of his soul.

He couldn't fight it much longer.

B…But he had one… _one_ last thing…h-he needed to do.

A grunt of pain passed the shattered teeth as he crumpled to one knee, digging into the soaked dirt, closed fist pressed against the old, grey walls; darkened slightly by the rain.

Labored, shabby breaths passed the crooked, hanging jaw, as ghostly white eyes jittered and his head shook, rain trickling down the side of the head.

The eyes shook up; even in the darkened sky, his fractured mind could make out words.

 _G..G-R-R..A..VE…Y…_

The word couldn't form in his mind, but he understood them.

A jagged sign, guarded by two iron angels, gave way to where he had arrived.

This _had_ to be the one…

The Fazbear name was born and breed in this part of the country.

He was born here. He had hoped to be buried here…

Sadly, _he_ wasn't given that gift.

Finding the strength to get to his feet again, he staggered forward, through the open gate, stumbling half on the pre-set path, half on the rain-soaked mud.

 _Now…wh-here was it?_

He stumbled pass several tomb stones; some missing chunks of stone after years of marking the deceased, others withstanding the test of time.

Most names were just a blur to his hazed mind, his fractured gaze barely making any sense of them.

But he made out _one._

The one he was looking for.

It stopped him dead in his tracks, his hold body swaying slightly as the rain pelted his body, soaking the dried blood that lay beneath.

Thinned blood trickled down his hanging hand, dripping from the extended finger and mixing with the mud.

His eyes were focused on the small stone, as he slowly limped across the grass and mounds of earth, stumbling over one large pile.

He eventually tripped and fell to his hands and knees, wheezing loudly as he coughed; loud, chesty coughs, thinned blood dripping from the cracked jawline.

But he carried on, crawling across the dirt and mud; the open palms sunk into the mud, and he strained to pull each hand free before continuing.

Finally, feeling as though he had expended all of his remaining strength, he had reached it.

The child death _he_ didn't cause.

Withered by time and weather, the words were faint on the stone; even though he had seen them at a distance, they were almost a blur now.

He raised a mud-soaked hand, trying to extend it forward and open it; but all it wanted to do was curl up on itself.

' _F…Focus…'_ he wheezed to himself, eyes closing partly as he concentrated.

Slowly, the withered, broken hand, the shaking turning more violent as time passed, pried open; three fingers mostly intact, but the ring finger completely ripped off and lost somewhere in the burning rubble.

Shaking in the rain, the open hand lowered and lowered until it rested on the curved top of the old stone.

 _MICHAEL FARRAN_

 _1978 – 1983_

 _SON, BROTHER, ANGEL_

' _S…S-Son…'_ he whispered hoarsely, the hand resting on the stone trailing down the front, fingers leaving dirt and blood stains trickling down the name of the deceased.

' _M…my a-actions…w…were…fo…f-for y…y-y-you…'_ he wheezed out, a hacking cough breaking through. More blood came from his jaw, staining the already-ruined teeth.

His other arm gave way, forcing him to collapse into the mud, the palm against the erect stone shuddering violently.

His white eyes flickered slightly, as the body shook as a whole.

Death was clutching his soul, squeezing the last of life from his rotten corpse.

This was it.

With what strength he had left, Vincent…or what others had come to know him as…

Springtrap, pressed his hand against the dirt, curling the fingers into the mud, and pushed against the ground.

Wheezing, and with one eye flickering before going out altogether, he faulted slightly, Death trying to claim him quicker. But he pressed down harder, eventually succeeding in flipping onto his back, rolling onto the ground beside the grave.

' _F…Forgive…m…m-e…'_

If he still had his tear ducts, tears would've streaked the animatronic's cheeks. But he had used the last of his tears during his bloodied death.

' _S…Son….'_

With the final word on his final breath, Springtrap's body, with Vincent's body forever trapped inside, sagged against the ground, the remaining eye flickering before slowly fading.

The last breath of life leaving him, and Death ripping him from reality.

Morning would soon break, revealing the withered, dark yellow/gold, rot covered rabbit suit, who many would recognize as the Animatronic known as 'SpringTrap' from the close-by Fazbear's Fright, which would also be discovered as nothing more than a burning mess.

Behind the walls of the graveyard, where Father and Son were finally laid to rest, side-by-side, a small mask peeked over the wall.

Purple streaks down its cheek, and the top of rosy cheeks visible.

" _It's finally over…The Nightmare ends…"_ a soft voice spoke, the mask turning slightly as its eyes rested on the body resting beside the grave.

But he didn't see a father beside his son.

What he _did_ see, was friends, torn apart by murder, insanity and time, reunited in death.


	2. 2 - Just Gold (1)

He slowly slid open the door, stepping out of the safe room. Breathing slowly, the odd shake in the otherwise steady exhale, as he slowly closed the door behind him.

He felt the back of the Spring Bonnie suit hit the wall beside the door, looking down carefully at his hands.

The normally golden hands were soaked in patches of blood.

Sighing slowly in relief, he rested the back of the animatronic head against the wall; the lower jaw slipped slightly, revealing the mouth of a human inside the animatronic suit.

' _Finally…'_ Vincent thought to himself, as he exhaled and inhaled slowly through the open jaw of the animatronic suit.

' _The brats are dead…'_

He glanced aside, peeking through a slight crack between the door and frame, allowing a shard of light to enter the small room.

A section of a thin, pale arm could be seen in the light, with the rest of the arm shrouding in the shadows that mostly filled the room. Blood ooze on the floor around the arm, some soaking the pale, child's skin.

That one had put up more of a fight than the other three…

"He's not my son anymore…" Vincent breathed to himself, under his breath; trying to reason with himself.

He raised one of the hands to the side of the animatronic head, and let it slip behind his neck, and felt around for something…

 _*click*_

With another, shaky sigh, Vincent raised his other hand to the other side of the head. With both hands, he lifted up and the Spring Bonnie head slipped off of his head.

Scratching a slight itch over the back of his head, Vincent rested his true head against the wall.

He briefly closed his eyes, taking a few moments to calm himself down.

"Now…what 'm I going to do with the bodies?" Vincent asked himself, opening his eyes once again as he looked over at the crack in the door.

He ran his hand over the side of his head, before he froze mid-rub; pulling the hand away, and looked over it.

Bingo.

A small smirk came over his features, as he looked down the corridor; past the crudely-drawn images of the 'Fazbear Crew'; past the dining area…

"Perfect…" Vincent smirked.

"Get in…you stupid…" Vincent grunted, pressing down on the scruffy brown hair of one of the children's bodies, trying to get it in the surprisingly tight Freddy suit.

With a final, forceful shove, the crippled child's body sank into the depths of the animatronic's body suit; with only a small tuft of hair visible without the head attached.

"That took for _fucking_ ever…" Vincent grumbled under his breath, re-adjusting the purple jacket he wore; he had ditched the old Bonnie suit in the safe room before he made the…

'Upgrades' to the animatronics.

He bent down and grabbed the disembodied Freddy head from the stage, and glanced around the name-sake.

The Bonnie and Chica animatronics had already been dealt with, and Foxy was done as well.

Now Freddy was stuffed, and with the head twisted into place, that just left the one left.

Luckily, there was one suit left…

Vincent quietly left the main stage, and returned to the safe room.

He had only planned for the four of them to get axed; but the fifth kid just had to follow them, and peak into the room just as he tied them up.

Luckily, Vincent had managed to catch him before he squealed to anyone.

He'd been the last one Vincent has sliced; making sure the knife cut slowly through the neck flesh….His blood had felt the best, oddly enough.

He pushed the heavy door open slowly, standing in the doorway as his unique, pale-grey eyes landed on the cold, dead body of the Peeping Tom.

Now he was dead.

His eyes shifted to the other corner of the room, and a slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Ah, Fredbear…it's been a while, hasn't it?" Vincent asked softly, as he strolled into the room to the occupied corner of the safe room. Once he had reached it, he slowly crouched down.

His smirk and eyes reflecting in the dulled eye casings of the old, dull-gold, Fredbear animatronic.

Vincent tilted his head to one side slightly, eyes drifting down slightly before drifting back up again.

"They changed your tie and hat, huh? Odd…the purple ones suited you better."

Shrugging slightly, Vincent sighed as he said, "Well, you haven't got me yet, Bear…but I've got someone to keep you busy."

Resting his hands on either side of the old animatronic's hea, and with a low creak of rusty, he head reluctantly came free from the body.

"They've not been keeping you well maintained, have you?"

Vincent set the head to one side and approached the dead body. Lightly kicking the limp arm; even after all this time, he just…wanted to make sure.

Grabbing the body from underneath the arms, Vincent lifted the body and walked it towards the slumped over animatronic.

"C'mon, in you get," Vincent grunted, bending the limbs of the child's body to try and squeeze it down the animatronic's neck.

"C'mon, c'mon, ya gotta work with me here."

After a bit more persistence, as well as a bit of limb removal when the body wouldn't co-operate, only a tuft of hair could be vaguely seen in the neck.

Rubbing his hands together, Vincent bent down and grabbed the Fredbear head. He held it in both hands temporarily, letting it face up to look at him.

He chuckled quietly, rubbing his thumb over one of the eye casings of the head.

"You've been there since the beginning, Fredbear…" he whispered to himself, rolling the head from one hand to the other.

"But I'm not a mindless monster. I'm doing this for a _reason_ ; I'm avenging someone," Vincent said, the smirk slipping from his features, as his fingers gripped the head firmer.

He glared at the head, before a faint chuckle broke through his hardening features.

"You caused this, you ol' Fredbear. The Main Attraction."

Turning the head around, Vincent placed the head on the rest of the body, and slowly twisted it back onto the body.

Once he had firmly re-attached the head, he rested his hands on the limp animatronic's shoulders.

"Time for the Main Attraction," Vincent whispered softly, moving away from Fredbear, a slight smirk forming.

"Your story must be told…"

He took step back towards the door.

"It never gets old…"

He stood outside the door, hand resting on the door.

"Some bots get satisfaction…breaking the mold…"

He slowly slid the door close, keeping the Fredbear animatronic away from prying eyes.

"Some bots are just distractions…."

He cast a look aside, down the corridor; even though he knew it was out of sight, his inner eye was seeing Foxy.

"Some bots are just gold…"

The door closed firmly, sealed off from the world.

A soft, civilized smile broke across his features, as he slowly walked down the corridor, hands slipping into his jacket pockets.

"There was a time, not so long ago at all…I was just like you, can you hear my call?" Vincent whispered/hummed to himself, as he slowly slipped out of the back exit.

Though he failed to notice two things.

Number One;

The security camera in the corner of the corridor, recording his movements; and the other cameras throughout the facility for the rest of his…'preparations'.

And Number Two;

A thin, frail hand curling around a door frame, with the faintest glimpse of a pale, tear-stained mask peaking around the door as Vincent locked up after him.


	3. 3 - Just Gold (2)

**What's this, a second chapter to one of my FNAF fics?!**

 **:O**

 **But just a quick note, I'm planning on putting all of my FNAF fics, both past and future ones, into a singular story, so they can be constantly updated and not lost in the depths of the FNAF archive.**

 **Thanks for reading :)**

 **Nf991**

* * *

There he lay, limp; a pool of his own blood soaking the ground around him, seeping into the cracks in the old floor.

The brats had tricked him…They cornered him…

He had gotten into the suit…

The Springs snapped his bones, ripping up his internals…Now this was where he would end; lying on the floor, blood soaking the suit and ground.

This wasn't how he had planned on going out…

At least he took a few with him before he'd kicked the bucket.

' _Or sprung the Springtrap,'_ Vincent thought to himself bitterly, before he spluttered thickly; blood spewing from the rotted Spring Bonnie head.

Though as he coughed up what remained of his guts, he failed to notice movement; passing through the door, and landed soundlessly on the old ground in front of him.

Even if he could see, he doubted he would've noticed it.

He only noticed when he saw the thin, black legs standing before him, leading his broken eyes up to the rest of… _its_ body.

" _You…."_ Springtrap wheezed, trying to push his hands underneath him; but he failed, too weak to do so.

The Marionette simply looked down at Springtrap, its expression unreadable through its one expression face; ever an open smile. Blank eyes staring back into your soul, but never passing any emotion.

" _Come…Come to gloat have you..?"_ he questioned hoarsely, turning his head slowly to try and get a glimpse of the damn Puppet.

Again, no response came from the Marionette; just the silent stare continued, until…

' _You are the main attraction...'_

Springtrap forcefully, and slowly, turned his head, a few squelches of blood oozing from the gaps between the mask and suit, and fresh blood seeped from the latest wound.

' _Your story must be told…'_

The Marionette slowly lowered its lanky body to the ground, crouching down beside the Spring Suit, placing a thin, black hand across the rotten chin.

' _You are a chain reaction…'_

A sudden force pushed his chin, forcing his head to turn the other way, as the falling spirit inside gagged, blood oozing from the crooked, broken jaw. A wheezed cough spluttered, coughing up even more blood.

It was a surprise that this rotten body could hold any more blood after all that he had split.

' _That never gets old…'_

The Marionette slowly rose to its feet, its eyes now occupied with a single, bright white pupil in each pool of darkness, as he stared down at the crippled killer.

' _Some 'bots get satisfaction…breaking the mold…'_

Rising in height as its feet slowly rose off the ground, the Marionette spared one last glance at the rotten Spring Bonnie suit, before turning and slowly floating towards the door.

' _Some bots are just distractions…'_

It partly moved through the closed door; like a ghost. It came to a stop halfway through the door, head drifting down to the disembodied Foxy head; the eye patch lost, and a large gash across its normally uncovered eye.

The Marionette's eyes then drifted to the axe that lay against the wall, blood free.

It glanced behind itself, through the door, one last time.

' _Some bots are Just Gold…'_


	4. 4 - The Springtrap hath Risen

He fell to his hands and his knees, tripping over the head of the dismantled Freddy, gasping for breath as he glanced behind him. His eyes widened as he saw _them_ drawing near.

Nearer to _him._

Scrambling to his feet, the faint squeak of his shoes against the rare polished part of the worn and dirt-covered floor.

The Pizzeria had seen better days; the halls were darkened, the lights that once illuminated the way to the different party rooms broken, or shattered completely from time and age. The drawers that lined that walls as he passed them, no lay crumbled up on the floor; torn and ripped, some from his steps in his hast to run away from _them._

He turned a corner at the end of the corridor he was running down, looking around as he tried to find a way to hide from them.

Then, his eyes landed on what may be his one way out of this nightmare.

The Safe Room.

' _Maybe they can't get in…'_ Vincent thought to himself; probably with more optimism than he would have liked…

Regardless, he grabbed the rusted handle of the safe room's door.

"Damn leaks," he muttered under his breath darkly the rust got into the shallow cut across the palm of his hand. Pain flared up in his hand, but he ignored it.

He had more important things to worry about.

He wrenched the door open, running in and slamming it close behind him; leaning against the door once he had locked the door. He breathed a short sigh, his breath shaking as he tried to recover from his running and panic.

Though, unfortunately for him, he seemed to forget one _tiny_ problem with his idea.

 _They could pass through doors._

Feeling the stomach-turning coldness flood his blood, Vincent backed off from the door, turning around. His skin grew cold and pale as he saw them slowly phase through the door, one by one.

Their pale, transparent-white skin-if you can even call it skin-phased through the door, their hollow, black eyes staring into nothingness, and yet, at the same time, staring right into his soul.

It haunted him.

Ever since he started…

 _His spree._

The ghosts-the _souls_ \- were all in the room, the four of them lining the locked entrance, blocking him from any sort of attempt escape.

' _Wait…W-Where's the…?'_ Vincent thought, before he was given his answer.

He would have preferred it verbally explained; rather than…well, if you could call it physically.

There, now seeping through the doors like the water that leaked through the roof and walls, was the fifth one….

 _The first child._

And with a brief flash of something across the child's spirit causes Vincent's already flipped stomach to start doing backflips.

The faint, brief image of the tear stains turning a light purple, combined with small, rosy-circle cheeks, confirmed it.

' _Damn puppet…'_ Vincent thought darkly, feeling a bit of sweat forming on his forehead as the faint indications vanished, leaving the fifth spirit as blank and plain as the other four children's spirits.

The Crying Spirit-the first Child-floated forward slowly, raising one of its ghostly hands up; pointing a bloody finger accusingly at Vincent.

" _You…You..._ _ **murdered.**_ _..these children…"_ said the deathly hollow, phantom voice of the Crying Child spirit, yet its mouth remained unmoving. As though he was communicating with Vincent within his head.

His hands flew to either side of his head, over his temples, screwing his eyes shut as he took another step back.

With the step back, the floating spirit took the same distance forward.

"Stay away from me, you bastards!" Vincent shouted, throwing his hands away from his head as he opened his eyes to look directly at the spirits; his dark grey eyes burning with anger, and hatred.

But something else was behind those signature eyes of his.

 _Fear._

He was _scared._

Normally, he'd be the one cornering his victims, leaving _them_ with no escape.

But now… _he_ was the one cornered, with no escap-

Wait!

As his eyes shifted over from the floating spirits, to the rest of the room, he backed up slowly, and his shoe bumped into something.

Of course…How could he be so _stupid?!_

The Spring-Bonnie Suit!

A sadistic, sly smirk forming across his paled face, Vincent made sure to keep his eyes on the Spirits, in particularly the damn Puppet Spirit, he bent down and grabbed the arm of the weathered and rotten suit.

It had obviously seen better days. It was so bad, some of the endoskeleton was visible. Even one of the ears were missing!

But that didn't matter to Vincent right now; he just hoped his theory worked.

He slipped into the hybrid suit; the feeling felt oh-so familiar, and brought back so many memories. He had so many memories inside this suit; and most of them involved covering the suit's hands in the blood of innocent children.

Now fully inside the suit, Vincent opened his eyes and breathe slowly; the glass casing that covered the eyes were a bit fogged up, but he could still see through them. The dark yellow, almost golden, Bonnie suit was in more disrepair than he first thought; there was patches over the chest and stomach of the suit so big, some of Vincent's purple jacket could be seen.

Flexing his fingers, of which, one of the animatronic's fingers was ripped off entirely, Vincent turned to face the spirits that haunted him.

Even though they were spirits, Vincent could still tell that there was fear from the children spirits. Behind the remaining teeth of the Spring-Bonnie suit, he smiled sadistically.

Seconds past as the spirits stayed still; even the Puppet spirit turned quiet.

A light, sinister laugh came from behind the Bonnie mask; this was Vincent's best chance of surviving.

"You think I'm scared of you? You think you strike FEAR in ME?!" shouted Vincent, his eyes burning with anger and sinister intent, taking a loud step towards the spirits; pointing a rotten, worn suit finger at the Spirits.

" _I_ am the one that strikes FEAR into the hearts of CHILDREN! _I am_ the one that you check for under your bed every night! _I_ am the ONE you will FOREVER FEAR!" Vincent roared with anger, taking a step forward with every sentence, the hand pointing at the spirits closing into an angered fist. It also happened to be the same hand with the slice across the palm.

It gave the impression that, with his clenched fist, blood oozed out of the closed fist, slowly dripping onto the worn floor.

" _I-"_ Vincent shouted, taking another step forward.

" _AM-"_ Another step forward.

Vincent opened his mouth to strike the finale nail in the coffin, but froze when he heard something.

The leaks.

 _Leaks._

Water…

 _Moisture…_

MOISTURE!

Almost as though his worst fear was becoming his worst nightmare in life, right above him, a damp patch in the ceiling slowly dripped a single drop of water leak through, before it broke from the ceiling and began free falling.

Right on the back of the Spring-Bonnie's neck.

 _Right_ where the spring lock was located.

' _Fu-'_ started Vincent, but he was ripped from his thoughts.

Both metaphorically _and_ physically.

The metal rods that acted as the Spring-Bonnie's limbs slammed back from their suit-mode position, forcing them back into their animatronic-mode.

Though to do this, Vincent's limbs had to go.

Bones shattering in several different places along the length of his arms and legs, blood squirting out where the bone broke through the skin and jacket. Vincent's muffled screams and yells of utter, unbearable pain.

Blood squirted from the suit's openings and holes, soaking the suit's surface and dripping down the legs; or just skipping the legs altogether and flooding straight onto the floor.

Pretty soon, a large, crimson puddle was formed at the bloodied animatronic feet.

His fingers shattered, with no chance of recovering them at all, as they were completely torn apart from the Spring-Bonnie's finger cases compressing with bone-crushing force.

But these injures hailed in comparison to the injures Vincent-still screaming for pain, and release from this nightmare-received to his stomach and torso area. The metal rib-cage of the animatronic jammed back into place.

The metal pierced the skin, shattering Vincent's ribs and striking right through his vital organs; the heart and lungs stood no chance. Blood came splattering out of Spring-Bonnie's mouth, as Vincent tried to scream with a mouthful of blood. All that came out was a splatter of blood, and a gargled cry.

His stomach and liver was torn to shreds from the metal compressing his body, shattering his hips and spine in multiple places.

Still trying to scream and shout in unimaginable, hellish pain through a collapsed throat and ruptured lung, Vincent, inside the Spring-Bonnie suit, collapsed to his hands and knees, the bodies twitching and shaking in pain.

He began heaving, blood splattering onto the ground, splashing back up onto the mask, but mostly pooled on the floor, reflecting Vincent in a crimson mirror.

That would be if Vincent could _see._

The glass cases for the eyes had jammed back when the spring lock broke; jamming themselves right into his eyes, shattering and lodging the glass deep inside his eyes and even reaching into his head.

Gagging and heaving, blood still dripping from the teeth of the suit, Vincent finally couldn't take the pain anymore. He collapsed onto his front, his head facing the safe room door.

Still twitching and gagging on his own blood, through the pain of his violent death, and the glass lodged into one of his eyes, the remaining eye, appearing a bright white against the glass of the eye cases, he noticed something.

They were gone.

The Spirits…had vanished.

Feeling his lungs giving up, his breaths growing weak, he spoke, in his last breath, spoke his last words.

" _The...S…Spring…Trap…."_

With those last, haunting words, Vincent, the self-proclaimed 'SpringTrap', gave in; his last ounce of life leaving him, and he collapsed.

Lying in a pool of his own blood, Vincent, known among the new employees as 'The Phone Guy,'…was dead.

But in his death…

SpringTrap hath risen.


End file.
